


Sissone

by Jigglypuff Gay (Mayasato)



Category: Ever After High
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballet, EAH Holiday Gift Exchange 2017, F/F, Misunderstandings, justine is the ultimate wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 11:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13145712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayasato/pseuds/Jigglypuff%20Gay
Summary: Poppy told Cedar she'd try one beginner's ballet class with her, just to ease her nerves. In a cruel(?) twist of fate, she ends up instead in the advanced ballet class with a teacher so cute that she decides to attend the class again... and again... and again...Written for tumblr user moonyuri0 for the 2017 EAH Holiday Gift Exchange! Hope you enjoy :3





	Sissone

“Darn it,” Poppy muttered, “Which studio was it again?”

She’d been trudging around the community center gym for the better part of five minutes trying to get to the beginner ballet class. She was more the type of girl to go on a jog if she needed exercise, but she’d promised Cedar that she’d try the dance class with her, just to make her less nervous. If only she wasn’t so bad at finding her way around. “Maybe I should text Cedar…”

“Hey, you!” a voice shrilled from a nearby studio. Poppy turned to see a tall, pale girl in a leotard and tights, her black hair pulled high into a gelled-back bun. She was, in all honesty, super hot, but the arch of her eyebrows and impatience in her voice made Poppy think better of trying to flirt.

“If you’re here for ballet class, we’re about to start,” said the girl.

“Oh, thanks!” said Poppy, breathless. “Everything looks the same to me, I was so lost—“

“I could tell,” the girl said haughtily, her face pulled into a sneer that made her nose wrinkle cutely. “We saw you walk past at least four times in the last five minutes. Don’t make us wait next time.”

The pale beauty turned on her heel and strutted into the studio. Poppy followed silently, all the while sizing up the other girls at the barre. Every one of them was dressed similar to Poppy’s savior, in some color of leotard, tights, and their hair worn in disciplined buns.

She looked down at her own attire self-consciously. Black tank top and purple gym shorts, and her hair was too short to be put up in any sort of way other than a half-ponytail. Everyone was wearing ballet slippers too, now that she looked for them; Poppy had been planning on going for it barefoot. She didn’t realize how serious everyone was about beginner’s ballet!

“Welcome to the class, everyone,” said the girl from earlier. “I’m Duchess, I’ll be your teacher today. We’ll do a short barre warm-up, some center floor exercises, and then a small turns workshop. Let’s begin with pliés.”

Poppy opened her mouth to ask what a plee-yay was, but thought better of it when she saw the other girls in class nod in understanding. Shoot, she was really in over her head here.

_“If you give in to fear, then fear wins,”_ her sister’s voice echoed in her head. Poppy internally rolled her eyes at the cliché advice, but knew that her inner Holly was right. If she didn’t see the class through, she’d feel terrible about it forever. And besides, how else would she get the cute teacher’s number?

“Apple, don’t sickle your feet in your _coupé_ ,” Duchess snapped across the room, making her way down the row of dancing girls. “Crystal, you’re wearing ballet slippers, not ice skates, point those toes.”

Poppy gulped in anticipation, struggling to keep up with the combination by looking at the girl in front of her. The music coming from the Bluetooth speaker prattled on far too fast as she tried to figure out how her feet were supposed to work.

She felt her breath stutter as Duchess came closer and closer to where she stood. She saw her narrow her eyes at the girl in front of her, seemingly struggling to find flaws in her dancing. “You should be making all your single _frappes_ into doubles, Justine,” she settled, and Poppy trained her eyes forward as Duchess walked up to her…

…And kept walking. And stopped at the girl behind her. “Back straight, Ashlynn.”

_“Oh my god,”_ thought Poppy, _“I’m so bad, she’s pretending like I’m not even here.”_

One hour and fifteen minutes after the class had started, Poppy was drenched in sweat and more exhausted than she’d ever been in her life. Her entire lower body was trembling. She didn’t even know you could get cramps in your feet just from pointing them so much.

“Good class today, everyone,” Duchess called out between sips of her water bottle. “See you same time next week.”

God, every week? Poppy didn’t think she could do this every week. She flopped down spread-eagle onto the marley flooring, breathing heavy and in a daze.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Poppy opened her eyes to see a curly-haired angel in a yellow leotard looking down at her concernedly. “Do you want to baby-bird some of my water?” She nodded weakly and sat up.

As Poppy poured the water into her mouth, the other girl spoke up. “You did really well for a newcomer. Duchess is a tough teacher. I’m Justine, by the way.”

“Urgh,” Poppy groaned, swallowing the water. “Thank you so much. I’m Poppy.”

“Yeah!” Justine beamed. “I hope you come back next week. I can tell you had a bit of a hard time today, but your dancing has so much character!”

“N’aw, you really think so?” Poppy said sheepishly.

Justine nodded, the bun atop her head bouncing loosely. “It’s not easy jumping right into the advanced class like you did! Duchess definitely noticed you today, and she’s hard to impress.”

Poppy felt the blood rush to her face at the idea of Duchess being impressed with her, but stopped short. “Wait. Advanced class?”

Justine nodded.

“I was supposed to be in the beginning class!” she wailed.

The other girl laughed at the outburst. “Does this mean you won’t be coming back?” she asked, a pout on her face.

Poppy wrung her hands together. If Duchess really was impressed with her… “I didn’t say _that_ ,” she muttered, and Justine laughed again.

* * *

“It look okay,” said Holly. She motioned for her sister to turn around, and inspected further. “About as good as someone can look in a leotard.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard,” Poppy fretted, pulling at the straps of the leo. Justine had shown her directions to the nearest dancewear store after Duchess had continued to deny her attention in the next week’s class; hopefully wearing the right get-up would finally get her in league to get some sort of recognition. Holly came with her, because Poppy was honestly a wreck in most situations without her, and now they were crammed in the one-person dressing room of the Capezio store, trying to figure out what kind of goddess could make a leotard look good.

_Duchess, apparently_ , thought Poppy.

Looking down at herself, yeah, the tights she had on were making a little indent in the fat of her tummy, and having her silhouette so undisguised in the mirror made it obvious that she needed to work out a bit more to pull this off. Maybe she could wear shorts or a tank top on top of her leotard—but that would defeat the point of buying a nice leotard, wouldn’t it?

“Maybe I should find one with sleeves,” Poppy said out loud.

“Poppy, why are you so worried about this? It’s a community center gym program, it’s not like it’ll affect your GPA,” Holly chuckled, combing her fingers through her hair.

Poppy blushed. “I just… don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Holly stared at her, and said slowly, “It’s a beginning ballet class at a community center gym.” Realization seemed to dawn on her features. “Wait—are you trying to impress someone?”

“Um.” Poppy stammered, knowing her twin had her found out.

“Who is it? What’s her name?” Holly prodded, her eyes shining.

Poppy sighed in a weird mixture of frustration and longing. “Duchess. She’s the teacher, and she’s ignored me both times I went.”

Holly frowned. “Huh. I thought it was Cedar’s friend Nate who taught ballet.”

“Oh yeah, he does,” said Poppy. “Duchess teaches the advanced class.”

Holly stared at her.

“I, uh. I got lost the first time. And I didn’t know the teacher was supposed to be a guy, so I just kind of took the whole class. And then went back again the next week.”

Holly stared.

“She’s really cute?”

Holly kept an incredulous look on her face, but seemed to relent a bit. “So you’re just going to keep on taking the advanced class?”

“Yup,” Poppy responded, popping the ‘p’. “How else am I supposed to get a date with her?”

“Ask Justine for her number,” Holly said flatly, unimpressed.

“No way, I have to do these things for myself,” said Poppy. She waved a hand in her sister’s direction as she slipped out of the leotard she was trying on. “It’ll work out, don’t freak.”

* * *

Every Saturday at eight in the morning, Poppy would get up, pin her hair back, put on her leotard and tights, and walk over to the community center before the advanced ballet class started at nine. She quickly discovered that it wasn’t unusual for many of the other attendees to come early to stretch and chat, but as much as she wanted to spend this time with Duchess, it would seem that she never arrived more than a minute before or after the start time. She never wasted any time leaving, either; there wasn’t a single moment Poppy could find to corner her to talk.

After class was over, she’d always head right back to the apartment she shared with Holly to shower and get ready for work at the salon. Her coworkers were starting to make fun of her for how she’d been showing up starving for the salon’s waiting room snacks, which she’d hoard at her station and munch on when clients weren’t looking. Not to mention how sore she was after every class—sometimes it was hard to even stand up while she was working.

And Duchess still hadn’t even looked her way once. Poppy tried her hardest to blend in with the better dancers, thinking that it was her lack of skill that made Duchess ignore her, and once even tried flubbing it extra hard to see if that would get her a scolding, a laugh, _anything_. Every time she wanted to give up though, Justine would show up after class with a secretive smile on her face, and say she was looking forward to see her back next week.

“Poppy, your one o’clock is here,” the receptionist said over the radio. Poppy thanked her and took to finish cleaning up her space before—oh.

That was Duchess walking towards her salon chair. She almost didn’t recognize her, without the ballet garb and plus makeup. She was wearing a lavender dress and a professional-looking jacket on top of it; she was possibly more intimidating now than she was in dance class. Still really, _really_ cute though.

“Uh, hey Duchess!” Poppy greeted, swiveling her chair around for her to sit in. “Wasn’t expecting you to be my “Miss Swan” client today.”

Duchess’s gaze narrowed and her eyes flickered self-consciously to the side. “Why not? Is there something weird about cutting my hair?”

“No, no, not at all!” Poppy waved her hands frantically. “S-Sorry.”

The taller girl harrumphed, hung her purse on the hook on the wall, and plopped down into the salon chair, arms crossed. “I needed a haircut, and Justine told me that you were a good stylist.” She refused to look into the mirror in front of her.

Poppy felt breathless for a second. Justine recommended her? She was torn between wanting to send her a gift basket or never talk to her again in embarrassment of being so obvious about her crush. “I didn’t even know you knew who I was,” she admitted.

“Of course I do.” Duchess twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Don’t let it get to your head; I’m still your ballet teacher.”

Poppy laughed, happy to finally be having a real conversation with her. “Of course not. Now, how do you want me to take care of you today?”

Duchess straightened. “Excuse me?”

“Your hair,” she clarified. “What are we thinking?” She began running her fingers through the black locks experimentally, fluffing it and combing out the tangles. It was the type of hair that could hold a curl if she put enough spray in there, but damn if it wasn’t thick.

“I don’t know,” she grumbled in the chair, looking more intensely at the ground. “You’re the expert, aren’t you?”

Poppy paused, her fingers stilling atop Duchess’s head. “Are you giving me free reign over your head?” she asked excitedly. There was one thing she’d always wanted to try on a client—

“Whoa, I don’t know about ‘free reign,’” Duchess leaned away, wary.

Poppy laughed. “Of course I wouldn’t do anything wacky. Hm…” She circled the chair, inspecting her client-slash-crush’s beautiful hair. “How much did you want to get rid of?”

“Just a trim,” she said.

Poppy hummed again. “How would you feel about… Maybe layers? And cut the hair shorter towards the front, to frame your face?” she tried.

Duchess nodded. “That sounds… acceptable.”

Poppy figured that was as close as she’d get to an enthusiastic affirmative, and grinned. “Then let’s get you to the hair washing station!” she sang.

Poppy tried to treat her special client no differently than her other ones; she kept the small-talk to the basic questions (How long have you been dancing? Do you just do styles besides ballet? Are you in school? How’s school going? What’s your major?) and received basic answers (Since she was four, no, yes, okay, and dance, duh). But as the appointment went on and Poppy was snipping in silence, she knew she had to say something to move this… whatever it was, forward.

“So, uh, do you teach any other classes besides advanced ballet?” she asked, hearing her voice crack a little bit and cursing herself internally for it.

Duchess hummed contemplatively, her eyes closed. “I’m the president of the ballet club at my university, so I’d say I teach those classes,” she began, “But Justine and I are the only members, so it doesn’t really count.”

“Sure it does!” said Poppy. “Why don’t some of the other students at the gym class join the club? I know Apple’s at your same uni.”

Duchess rolled her eyes. “Hmph. The club meets on Friday evenings, which is apparently too inconvenient a time for people to actually show up.”

“Aww. I’d come,” she said, grinning, “Goodness knows I need all the practice I can get on my ballet.” She decided it was best not to mention that she’d be going more for Duchess than the dancing.

Duchess paused for a moment and opened her eyes. “Would you, ah… Like to take a class with the club?”

Poppy’s heart did a backflip at the offer. “B-But I’m not a student,” she reasoned. Whereas most of the younger folks in their area attended Duchess’s university (including Holly), Poppy had already finished beauty school.

“It’s my club,” Duchess reasoned, looking away so Poppy couldn’t see her expression. “Justine wouldn’t mind if I let you dance with us. She likes having you around.”

“Really?” Poppy admittedly wasn’t that crazy about having an extra day of sore muscles, but more time with Duchess sounded ideal.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get worked up about it,” Duchess said with a dismissive hand wave. “Now are you going to finish up my hair or not?”

“On it, ma’am,” said Poppy, and took to finishing her job. “I’m going to do something special at the end for you, I think you’ll like it.”

When she was finished, she squealed in excitement. “Ta-da!” Duchess looked up and saw that Poppy had made pulled some of her hair into a bun that looked like a bow, and left the rest of it free-flowing and softly curled down her back. Poppy grabbed her hand mirror and eagerly shoved it in Duchess’s hands, swiveling the chair around so she could see the back of her head.

“Wow,” Duchess breathed, “That’s… Thanks.”

Poppy smiled at Duchess’s expression in the mirror. “Of course. Gotta make sure my clients walk out with their hair looking as pretty as they are.”

* * *

Justine didn’t show up to ballet club on Friday.

And now Poppy was here, alone, with Duchess, at a ballet class. And Justine definitely did it on purpose.

“Ugh, she says she’s got a paper to write,” said Duchess, her thumbs already typing out a reply. “It’s Friday night! Nobody does their homework on Friday.”

She sighed, her hand lowering to her thigh. “Well, I guess you and I can get started, and then maybe Justine will show up later.”

Poppy grinned nervously. “Yeah, maybe.”

If Poppy thought that being in a private class with just her and Duchess would finally get the other girl to pay attention to her dancing, she was dead wrong. She left no gaps between the combinations; _pliés_ to _tendus_ to _dégagés_ to _rond de jambs_ without any commentary. It was uncomfortable.

“You know, Duchess,” she said in the middle of their post- _rond de jambe_ stretch, “I can take your criticism on my dancing. How else am I going to get better?”

Duchess blinked apparently not expecting the comment. “Oh, um. Well, If you’re sure. Let’s do some _fondus_.”

Though the combination Duchess gave seemed far more doable than most, Poppy suddenly found herself bombarded with comments.

“First of all, straighten your back and keep your elbows up, you look like a chicken.” Duchess started. “Bend both your legs at the same time! You should be making a perfect diamond with them. Hey, don’t look at me, look at your hand when you do your port de bras. Don’t sickle your foot on the back extension there—“ she actually leaned forward to grab Poppy’s foot mid- _fondu_ , making her squeak as she was knocked off-balance and onto the floor.

“Oh,” Duchess said simply, staring at her. “Sorry.”

Poppy tried to laugh, but found that a couple tears were coming to her eyes in spite of herself. “No, you’re fine, you’re perfect,” she said wetly. “I, uh, I’m not very good at this.”

“You’re… fine,” Duchess replied, stiffly.

“No, I—“ and now Poppy was crying in earnest, because, god, her legs were so sore and her mind was scrambled up in ballet jargon and all she wanted was to impress Duchess but she couldn’t even handle a little bit of criticism from her and now she was on the ground. “I’m a fraud, I’m not even supposed to be in the advanced class, I’ve never taken a ballet class before two months ago.”

She looked up at Duchess, expecting to see shock or disgust on her face, but instead she saw her smiling. “No offense Poppy, but, uh,” she crouched down to her level. “It was pretty easy to tell that you were a beginner from your first class. You didn’t know what fourth position looked like.”

“Oh,” said Poppy, her voice wobbling. The tears were coming down even harder now. “So I just embarrassed myself for two months in front of everyone.”

“No, Poppy, don’t—“ Duchess draped her long arms around her shoulders, kind of awkwardly, in an attempt at a hug. “I knew… we all knew how hard you were working.” She pulled back suddenly, a puzzled expression on her face. “Why did you keep coming back, anyway?”

Poppy hiccupped. “I was trying to impress… someone, in the class.”

All of a sudden, the other girl’s face soured. “Oh,” she looked down, biting her lip, before her expression twisted up in anger. “Justine’s already got a girlfriend,” she snapped.

Poppy was taken aback. “That’s… good for her?” Realization dawned. “Oh, no, it’s not Justine I’m interested in!”

For a minute, Duchess seemed relieved at that information. “Who, then? Apple’s already in like a love pentagon, you don’t want to get involved with that.”

Poppy laughed, carefree and confident, before surging forward and pressing her lips to Duchess’s. The taller girl made a muffled “mmph!” of surprise, toppling backwards from her precarious position onto the marley flooring. Poppy tried her best to keep her lips trained on the other girl’s, but ended up with her face buried in her shoulder when they landed.

She looked up and grinned at Duchess’s awestricken expression. “Uh, sorry for knocking you over—“ she started with a giggle, which rose to a muffled shriek of surprise when Duchess grabbed her by the cheeks and pressed their mouths together once more.


End file.
